


The Bitter Taste of Hope

by riventhorn



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Gags, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gagged and imprisoned, Loki can only wait for his brother to come to him</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bitter Taste of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; no profit is being made from this
> 
> Spoilers for the Avengers movie

The All-Father put him in a dark hole beneath the palace. The chains had been removed, but the gag remained in place, keeping all his acidic, accusatory words at bay. Odin placed his hand on Loki’s head briefly and then withdrew, leaving him to the black silence. 

He could not tell how much time passed, but as the hours stretched, unfathomable, he began to feel the shreds of panic clinging to his mind. He had imagined a trial, a public judgment for Thor and Odin to demonstrate their supposed mercy and wisdom. And he would have been given the chance to speak in his defense. The chance to weave such words that no matter what his fate, none in Asgard would ever have forgotten him. 

But here, locked in the cellars like a rat, ignored…forgotten…

He felt the walls, scrabbling at their smooth surface, but there was no sign of a door. The first sound slipped past his gag—a desperate, pleading whine. It filled him with shame. Thor would never have broken. 

The thought filled his mind with the bright flash of lightning, and Thor’s wild laugh that used to echo among the starfields when they rode out on reckless adventure. He clung to it, huddling on the floor, trying to hold on to the brightness, even as he cursed it. 

And then, like a fetid breeze clogging his nostrils, came the thought that perhaps his brother would never come for him. That perhaps, Thor had forgotten him, too.

When he had discovered his true parentage, he had thought that no pain could ever equal the agony of that discovery.

But once more, the universe delighted in proving all his suppositions wrong.

*

A weak light—the barest hint of a candle flame—and yet it seared his eyes. He covered his face, pressing against the wall. Why did the All-Father come? How could he possibly increase the torment of being kept in this hole? Loki shivered, expecting some form of physical torture, and he flinched when something touched him.

But it was only a hand, resting against his shoulder.

“Brother.”

_Thor_. He looked up, blinking against the light, eyes watering. His brother knelt next to him, mouth heavy with sadness.

Of course Thor pitied him! Pitied him for ever daring to think he could match such greatness! 

Snarling, he wrenched away. His legs felt too weak to support him, so he crawled. Yes, let Thor see him crawl. Let him think that he was broken. He would find a way out, and he would show them—anyone who dared to sneer at him, to laugh at his weakness. His breath wheezed harshly, and he fetched up against the opposite wall, trembling.

Thor had not moved. “I do not seek to hurt you, brother,” he said quietly.

What he could have said to _that_ pleasant fiction if not for the gag! He glared instead, hoping that Thor felt exactly how much he despised him.

But Thor had always been infuriatingly oblivious. 

Instead of leaving, Thor picked up a bowl and cloth that he had brought in with him. Loki could hear the splash of water in the bowl, and thirst raged inside him, along with the remembered taste of sweet food and the breath of clean air on his skin. How he hated the frailty of this body.

“Let me tend to you,” Thor said. He approached slowly, holding out his hand, as though Loki were a dog to be tamed to his will. 

_Do you seek to collar and leash me, brother? A pet to curl beneath your throne?_

He wouldn’t crawl again. So he suffered his brother to sit beside him. 

Thor sighed, dipped the cloth in the water, and brushed it across his cheek, wiping away sweat and grime. 

“Father would not let me come before now,” he said as he worked, gently cleaning around the gag. “And he forbid me from removing this.”

Did Thor expect him to believe such pale lies? He tried to push Thor’s hand away, but Thor caught his wrists easily, holding him still. Thor urged him to bend his neck, lifting away his tangled hair to ease the cool cloth against his skin.

Such tender gestures. Why did Thor put up this charade of affection? Did he tease him with promised rewards for good behavior? He was only fooling himself if he thought it would work. Loki knew only too well that everything he could do would never be enough to earn such love—that the reward would always remain dangling out of reach, taunting him.

“I’ve missed you, brother,” Thor whispered against his neck. 

_If that were true, you would have found a way to see me before now. You wouldn’t have left me rotting in this darkness._

Thor fumbled for one of his hands and guided Loki’s fingers under his shirt. Loki shuddered at the first touch of hot flesh, only slowly becoming aware that Thor had rested his fingers against a raised patch of skin, the still tender ridge of a scar. He remembered how easily the knife had slid into his brother’s side. 

“I need only put my hand here,” Thor said hoarsely, “and I think of you.”

Ah, yes, he forgot sometimes that his brother was just as twisted as he was in this matter.

He soothed his fingers over the scar, and Thor pressed his face against his shoulder, his other arm tightening around his waist. 

And when Thor’s fingers slid lower, he didn’t protest. 

“Do you remember that day by the waters of Uroarbrunnr?” Thor touched his lips to the hollow under his jaw where his pulse quickened.

_The first time you let me see the desire naked in your eyes. The first time you spent yourself in my hand and let me believe that all the promises you whispered to me might come true._ He spread his thighs, letting Thor draw out his cock with eager fingers. _The first time I learned how cruel you could be._

“You think that because you were birthed on Jotunheim all my love for you has gone, but you are wrong, brother.” Thor pulled at him, insistent, and he sank back, resting against Thor’s chest, willing himself not to believe the lie.

“I would have you at my side again,” Thor continued and then his gentle fingers turned rougher, twisting into Loki’s hair and holding him tightly even as Loki’s hips began to jolt upwards, precome wetting the tip of his cock. “But you defy me. Always turning your back on me in your mad quest for power.” His hand moved faster, and the prickling burn of his beard rasped against Loki’s cheek.

Loki moaned against the gag. He had been denied this pleasure for so long…

“Perhaps I like this on you,” Thor mused, his finger tracing along the edge of the gag. “None of your honeyed lies and half-truths can escape. You cannot even beg for me to finish you.” His pace slowed, and he thumbed back the foreskin, just brushing a knuckle against the head of Loki’s cock. Loki choked on a cry, and Thor chuckled. “You must wait on my whim. I could keep you like this for hours.”

Loki dug vicious fingers into his brother’s thighs, pressing his hips down, rewarded when Thor groaned and quickened his pace again. _You’re still like clay in my hand, brother. Pitifully easy to bend whichever way I desire._

“Why do you deny us this?” Thor said, squeezing his balls as though weighing the heaviness of the seed Loki would spill for him. “Why must you seek to destroy all that I hold dear?” His voice thickened with tears. “I would not see you hurt again.”

_You are only vexed because I do not grovel at your side like a dog._ And he would have torn away, but his climax tugged at him, and he could only lie limply in Thor’s grasp watching his seed dribble down his brother’s fist.

Thor grunted and rutted against him for a few moments, nuzzling into his hair, before coming too. He stilled, breathing deeply, his hand still cupped around Loki’s softening cock. 

Loki wriggled, trying to dislodge him. Now that the passion was fading, he felt disgusting, with his seed drying sticky on his skin. How easily he had given in to Thor’s platitudes, his empty words of love and desire! 

Thor caught his shoulders, holding him down while he cleaned them off, and Loki tolerated the indignity of it, waiting until at last he could slip away, gathering himself. But Thor would not leave him be and crouched next to him, tilting his head until their eyes met.

“You must repent your deeds, Loki. Show father that you regret what has been done, and he shall grant you mercy.”

Mercy—as though he needed anything that Odin might deign to give him. He would not go back to begging for scraps from the table. If he could only be rid of this cursed gag. He tugged at it, looking at Thor in mute appeal.

“I would undo it if I could, brother, but it is not in my power,” Thor told him. “But I shall speak to father. I cannot bear the thought of you locked away here in the dark forever.”

He gathered up the things he had brought, slowly preparing to leave. He moved towards Loki again, but Loki drew away, and Thor let him go with a sigh. “I shall return,” he promised and then disappeared.

Thor had left the candle behind, Loki realized, to burn a scant while longer. He crouched over it, staring at the little flame, his only sustenance the bitter taste of hope.


End file.
